Sought the Truth
by Vinnet
Summary: A mission digs up memories of Charlie, and the return trip sends O'Neill on a very important journey.
1. All That's Sweet

You've had your taste

Of all that's sweet.

Now you're through

And what does it mean?

Jack stared at the third picture down on his locker door. He didn't know why that boy on P3X-118 reminded him so much of Charlie. Maybe it was because he was athletic, curious, and good-natured. Most probably, it was because the boy was the same age as Charlie had been when he died and had his whole life ahead of him, a whole life stolen by a weapon commonly carried by his team.

No, the situation on '118 wasn't the same, though it felt like his son's death all over again. He was walking in the woods, mad at his parents when they found him only a short walk from the 'gate. When Jaffa troops showed up, the boy had immediately forgotten about the argument with his father. As they were trying to get him back home, a metal-clad Jaffa appeared from the village, which they had thought safe, and shot the kid square in the chest. That boy didn't know what a staff weapon did. He didn't know what the conglomeration holding it might do. Charlie had known. That's why it hurt so much. He knew what guns did, how they worked, what they were used for. And he pulled the trigger.

Jack couldn't help either boy. He couldn't raise his P-90 fast enough. He couldn't comfort well enough. If only they'd had a sarcophagus, the miracle machine that brought everyone else's loved ones back from the dead, or so it seemed. Nothing on Earth could help the blasts that had gone through the boys' hearts. Nothing could help the wounds that bore into his. His team thought he'd forgotten Charlie, that the only times he remembered his lost son was when he wore one of those annoying mind probes. That was fine. No one needed to know that he drank to _forget_ for a few short hours, that he pretended to not understand as a kind of self-punishment for his carelessness. Maybe if he diverted energy from intelligence and understanding, from trying to make himself look smart, and took more care, no one else would get hurt. He knew his reasoning wasn't quite the best in that matter, but it also served as his continuous tribute to his son.

He forced himself to look away. Now wasn't the time to think of Charlie and '118's boy, not when he debriefed in forty-five minutes and couldn't have a beer on the way.

"Are you well, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked from behind him.

Jack glanced from his buddy to the picture again then slammed the locker door, having changed while thinking. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You seem pensive." Teal'c stood with his hands joined behind his back, his face open. The mission didn't seem to have affected him, but then again, he was a trained Jaffa; it shouldn't. Jack might not have considered the possibility if he hadn't known Teal'c or that he had a son.

"I do that sometimes," he replied. Then he asked, changing the subject to avoid any discomfort, "We still on for lunch at O'Malley's?"

Teal'c nodded, a shade of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips; he had developed a bit of an affection for the restaurant. "Indeed."

"Catch up with you after debriefing, then." He smiled, trying to ease Teal'c's apparent sense of abnormality. At the Jaffa's final nod, Jack began heading toward his office, wondering if he should file _this_ mission report early just to be done with it and allowed to forget.


	2. You've Given Up

_You've sought the truth,_

_Found a lie._

_You've given up, but that_

_Doesn't make it right._

Jack stopped by his office on his way to the briefing room to spend the remaining fresh-up minutes calming down. He collapsed in the little-used chair in his surprisingly well-organized office. Well-organized did not equate to empty, he realized, glancing over the many piles on his desk: mission reports to write and unread memos, among others. On a whim and as a half-hearted attempt to take his mind of Charlie—at least for now—Jack slipped the top paper from the memo stack and blinked, making sure he read the subject right.

" 'God missing'?" he murmured incredulously. "Oh, for crying out loud!" He glared at the second paper in the stack, the subject of which read "Russians to Visit". Patience running short, he snapped his attention back to the "God Missing" memo and held the page up to the light to check for the official SGC watermark.

He had tried the whole God thing back when Charlie was growing up, because Sara had been raised in a church-going home. Jack even bought into it for a while, starting about six months before Charlie… That was when he knew it did not work, that God or whoever did not exist or did not care about him. Any Almighty Being would not let an innocent child die, especially not Charlie.

The seal was there, the print as official as any other memos he had ever received, perhaps more. Sighing, Jack skimmed over the message, becoming increasingly alarmed as he did.

_Subject: GOD Missing _

_A GDO was found to be missing from your team upon your return from P3X-118 this morning. Please report to General Hammond any details as to its whereabouts._

His eyes wide, Jack hustled out of his slightly-less-organized office to speak to General Hammond. He had heard something drop just before he, the last team member left on the planet, entered the 'gate, but thoughts of '118's boy had distracted him from thoroughly checking his gear upon arrival.

* * *

Four fresh O'Malley's steak dinners settled on the table in front of SG-1. Nearly immediately, Teal'c dug into his, an Atlanta Braves cap bobbing with his bites. Carter likewise ate as she normally id, but Daniel and O'Neill both took their time, dawdling in their thoughts.

Sensing their sullen moods and anxious to hold a conversation, Carter glanced around to see that no one could hear them. "I can't believe we dropped a G—garage door opener," she commented, glad that the name of the device sounded so commonplace, despite its out-of-the-ordinary purpose.

Jack repositioned some of the mashed potatoes on his plate, likewise glad for the normal-sounding terms. "I heard it hit the ground before I came through the 'gate. At the time, I didn't worry about it; I didn't realize what it was."

Daniel shook his head. "We understand, Jack, but we have to go back. We have to see if it's still there. If the…" He paused, looking for a word that would sound less suspicious than "Goa'uld". "If the people behind us found it and figured out the… frequency… they'll be able to get in any time we leave."

The colonel finally looked up from his meal only to glare at one of his best friends. "Daniel, if we go back there, there's no telling what we'll find…" He stopped mid-explanation as the other three stared at him like cows watching an on-coming train. "What?"

"Sir, you…" Sam began, only to find that there was no good, easy way to tell him.

"Your behavior seems most uncharacteristic," Teal'c stated. "You, most of all, realize that we must return."

Jack pointed his fork at the Jaffa, ready to burst out with a more than reasonable excuse for why they should give up on the GDO. "T, I'm not gonna—" He cut himself off, unwilling to reveal his true motivation for objection, the boy. Finally, after several seconds of incredibly awkward silence, his mind clinched around something they might accept. "That pl-lace is still overrun with unfriendlies. The moment we go back, we'll be shot to pieces."

"I don't think so," Sam replied. "After all, reconnaissance is good for something."

Daniel's brow furrowed, and he turned to his friend, the one person at the table he had known the longest. "Jack, is something bothering you?"

O'Neill's eyes widened for barely a split second. Did Daniel know? Had he picked up something on '118 that allowed him to read minds? Surely, that was not the case, but how could one be sure? "No. Why?"

The other shrugged and assessed the others' equally surprised expressions before turning to the commanding officer. "You wouldn't usually let us sleep until we returned, but now you're trying to keep us here. As Teal'c said, you're not acting like yourself."

Jack rolled his eyes. "If you think it's so important, we'll go," he consented, still glad to have the time away from the SGC. Talking about it was _not_ helping him forget, however. "I'm fine, really."

* * *

Note: I own nothing. The song at the beginning of the chapters is by Plus One and entitled "Start to Fly". It is my inspiration for this fic. Please pray that I get more inspiration, or else there will be very few new chapters. Reviews help almost as much as prayer!


	3. You Wanna Leave

I know you wanna leave.

Got to go farther than you see.

Though his physical hunger was satisfied, O'Neill knew he would still need a weekend alone and a few beers to get over this mission. Sighing, he turned the radio on in hopes of filling the truck's silence so Teal'c would refrain from asking any revealing questions. Jack flipped the radio from an annoying country station that came up to a station with a great beat and a wonderful guitar solo, but as soon as the words began, he flipped back.

Teal'c, sitting in the passenger's seat, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, still cautious of his friend's strange behavior. "What is the matter, O'Neill?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "Don't like that kind of rock," he answered simply, glad he rode with an alien who might not pick up on music preferences as much. The downfall was, of course, that he could not ask Teal'c to turn on his favorite radio station. After living in the base for three years, he might not even realize what a radio was!

To Jack's dismay, the Jaffa leaned forward and flipped back to the rock. After a couple minutes of listening and several of the colonel's attempts to flip the station, Teal'c finally allowed him to adjust the dial. "Who is this Jesus? I would much like to talk to him."

"Teal'c, he's dead," Jack replied flatly.

"You are incorrect, O'Neill; the singers said he is alive."

Jack rolled his eyes. Now was definitely not a good time for Teal'c's literal thinking. "Yeah, well, the guy's not on this planet or any other."

"Are you certain, O'Neill? Perhaps he possesses a sarcophagus."

"Don't think so, Teal'c." He shook his head, tired of it all, tired of things persistently screaming at him, reminding him of the faith he had started to have but lost. "Look, maybe you should ask Daniel." _That should be right up his alley!_

The Jaffa nodded, noting that his friend seemed more short-tempered than usual, and made a mental reminder to asked the archeologist about this man named Jesus.

* * *

Dr. Jackson looked up from his translation of an artifact stored at Area 51 at the motion he saw out of the corner of his eyes. "Hey, Teal'c. Can I help you with something?" he wondered, infinitely glad the Jaffa had come to pay a visit instead of the colonel. He was trying to get a few more words translated before the general gave the go-ahead for their return to '118.

The Jaffa nodded. "Indeed. During the car ride back to the base after lunch, Colonel O'Neill did not wish to listen to a specific station."

Daniel smiled, glad that Teal'c's question wasn't one of the hard ones to answer. "Jack doesn't really like country music."

"It was not country music, Daniel Jackson; it was, in fact, what he has referred to as 'rock'."

Daniel's eyebrows dropped together. As far as he knew, Jack's favorite genre of music was rock. Had somebody taken the colonel's identity again? No, not this soon after the latest quantum mirror run-in… "Well, what was the song? What did it say?"

"It talked about a man named Jesus," Teal'c informed him, stopping beside Dr. Jackson's work area.

"Oh." The archeologist turned back to his translation as he thought back to the Abydos mission and what Catherine had told him beforehand. "Jack has a bit of a problem with religion."

"Do you believe this Jesus to be a Goa'uld?" Teal'c wondered. His voice held a bit of an edge; the very thought of the Goa'uld seemed to make his hair (what little there was) stand on end.

"No," he replied. To the best of his knowledge, none of the Goa'uld had ever gained such widespread acceptance on twentieth-century Earth. "I don't know what I believe."

"What is so different about this man that you don't think he could be a Goa'uld?"

Daniel shrugged, still not looking up at Apophis's former first prime. "I've never heard of a Goa'uld dying on a cross," he explained. Something about that struck him as odd. Certainly a Goa'uld would not allow himself to be put to death in such a shameful way. Besides, the Goa'uld were gone for the most part by that point in time.

"Tell me more about this Jesus."

The linguist finally looked up, unsure of what to say. "According to the Christians, he was a generally good guy. They say that he then died on a cross and rose again after three days in a tomb."

"You do not believe this," Teal'c stated.

"Like I said, I don't know what I believe."

Teal'c nodded respectfully and backed out of Daniel's lab, sure of one thing: he needed time to think over this.

* * *

I was lying on my bed, listening to Plus 1 when I got inspired for this, though I'd been playing around with the idea of writing a Christian fic for a long time. Like I said last chapter, reviews and prayers are helpful! 


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